There's a spraypainted mural in a pub in Cork City I saw last week. It says, "I love you but I've chosen disco". I'm feeling it. I saw Nile Rodgers and Chic in concert last night.
There are gigs that change your life, that grab you by the throat and open your heart and your mind. Less intense, but no less delightful, are the gigs that change your style. I've heard of these, but never seen them.
I've never seen Madonna, or Beyonce or any of the arena shows whose aesthetic is as important as the sound. I've never even been to a show with a costume change, unless you count Morrissey taking off his football shirt. All due respect to a man I love, but that was probably something I could have done without.
Last night was Chic in full regalia though, and they brought the house down. Guitarist Nile Rodgers, one of the all-time great producers of 20th-century pop music, is having a renaissance thanks to Daft Punk. Get Lucky has been to No1 in 97 countries at last count.
Rodgers has produced songs for everyone from Diana Ross to David Bowie, and what a joy it is to hear him and Chic perform them all live. Seeing Rodgers in the flesh is my new favourite thing; I'm going to do it as often as humanly possible. After this, I'd happily watch them every single night.
The way they look on stage is no small part of the delight. There are two female singers; lacquered as mirror balls, bedecked in more gold than Tutankhamun's hoard. Between them dances Mr Rodgers, resplendent in a snowy white hat and a suit so sharp you could use it to slice and dice.
This, my friends, is disco. This is the music of good times. I came away with legs sore from dancing, and a face sore from smiling. I came away with the desire to buy a dress that was tight and sparkly, to grow my hair big and curly, to freak out. I love Nile, and I've chosen disco. Imagine my surprise. I never even knew it was chic again before last night.